


Drop in the Ocean

by grimzie



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Character Death, F/M, Feelings, Gen, Ocean, One Shot, and the tears stream down my face, beach, gross sobby feelings, turn back while you can
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-27
Updated: 2013-03-27
Packaged: 2017-12-06 17:24:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/738214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grimzie/pseuds/grimzie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I'll always remember everything about Harry Styles because he wasn't around long enough.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drop in the Ocean

It was his eyes that I noticed first, if I'm being honest. Even in the dim glow of the bonfire, 30 feet away, I could see the fire reflected in the greenish blue hue of his irises. I stood by myself, bottle of beer in hand, my fingers wilting underneath the condensation covered glass as I unconsciously stared at the boy I had never seen before. In front of the fire in his eyes was a clear curtain of sadness. I noticed it because I had seen it so many times in my own reflection. Ignored by the outsiders who didn't know pain or loss, but known all too well by those who did.  
A strong desire to know all of his secrets before I even knew his name overtook every corner of my brain. In an instant, I wondered what his favourite book was, if he liked tea or coffee, who had broken his heart and was the reason for the glaze in his look. He smiled at me and his teeth were like the sun, brighter than anyone's I had ever seen but the honesty behind it was nowhere to be found. It didn't touch the corners of his eyes and it made it hard to reciprocate, no matter how beautiful I thought he was. He was beautifully sad and I found something comforting about it.

At the end of the night, with the warm waves lapping at our ankles, I learned his name was Harry. He had just moved from England all the way across the vast sea to the small town in Maine where I had lived my whole life. Millions of places in the world to go and yet he stood next to me, our feet buried in the same damp New England sand, sharing a drink from the same bottle, breathing the same air thick with the mist that rose off of the dark sea.  
His voice came out in a slow drawl, heavy with accent and liquor, and the way he pronounced his U's and the way his lips moved when he did so had every drop of blood in my veins rushing to my cheeks.

"Wouldn't it be nice if you could just walk out into the water and not stop until you're in too deep and your lungs fill up so you just peacefully float away into nothingness?" I questioned. He stared down at me, teetering slightly as his eyebrows knit together. He chewed on the inside of his lip in question, undoubtedly trying to make up some answer to the outlandish drunken question I had just vomited all over him. His mouth opened to speak but he quickly closed it with nothing to say, deciding instead to press his lips to mine, warm and alive with electricity. I mumbled softly before sighing and leaning into him, the bottle I was holding slipped from my pruned fingers and landed silently in the tide. I'll always remember that his skin smelled of pine and his breath smelled of cinnamon and the way his tshirt felt in my clenched fist.

My house was a 5 minute walk from the beach and Harry offered to walk with me. My mind told me to say no, that I had just met him, that he could be some deranged maniac, but his eyes hypnotised me and the "yeah, sure" slipped past my lips without permission. As I stood on my porch, hazy with alcohol tainted blood, my vision foggy, I tried to focus on the beautiful green eyes that had my attention all night but my eyelids began to close and my stance faltered. Harry's large warm hand caught me by the waist as he muttered a raspy "whoa, there" before pulling me into him.  
"Don't float away into nothingness alone," his lips that I was becoming so fond of grazed my ear and his hushed answer to my earlier question floated around in my head, uncomprehended until later. His fingertips held onto me firmly, leading me into the front door. I caught another sleepy look at his tired eyes before he jogged back down the steps and down the street. I'll always remember how close he was to genuinely smiling at me for the first time that night.

I'll always remember everything about Harry Styles because he wasn't around long enough.

The next 3 months I spent every day with Harry, mostly on the single mattress on his floor surrounded by boxes he refused to unpacl. I didn't want him to come to my house. I didn't want him to meet my family. I wanted to monopolise him and his affection because I was afraid someone else would get to know his secrets before me.  
It was hot and a stagnant warmth flowed in through the open window above us. My head rested on his chest, listening to his steady rhythmic heartbeat echo through my ears. Ba dum. Ba dum. With it came a soft whirring sound. The sound you hear when you put your ear to a seashell at the beach. The sound of the ocean, people say. Harry's heart was my ocean and I was dangerously close to being in too deep.

"Do you want to go out tonight?" his voice rumbed through his chest and I hummed in contentment. "Is that a yes?"  
I stared at him confused, not actually hearing what I had agreed to, too wrapped up in his presence and my daydreams of us laying in a hammock on a private island.  
"What?"  
"Do you want to go out tonight?" he repeated. "I want to take you to dinner." His thumb ran back and forth over my upper arm, bunching and unbunching the light blue material of my blouse.  
And once again, without my permission, I agreed. 

My hair was curled, my dress a little too tight. I had never had a desire to look beautiful for a boy before but Harry had me wanting things I didn't know were possible. I answered the door to him at 8 sharp like the suit that hung on his lanky frame. He smiled the same smile that just missed his eyes and told me I was beautiful. Was it all a facade? I still wonder sometimes.  
We arrived at a fancy restaurant called La Poesie where Harry said I could get whatever my heart desired. I stared across the small table and the flickering candle at him, frowning in confusion. I didn't understand how he had the money to pay for it, but I didn't think it was my place to ask so I kept quiet, sipping on the sparkling cider he ordered for me. I'll always remember how much of a gentleman he was that night and the goodnight kiss we shared, heavy with longing and something much more desperate on Harry's end.

"I'm sick," he half-whispered, voice shaky as his breathing slowed. I looked over at him from the end of his bed as I pulled my shirt down over my head and smoothed out my wild hair.  
"What do you mean? You haven't got a cough," I said. I placed my hand on his damp forehead, pushing his sodden curls out of the way as I tried to feel for a fever. His doey eyes looked up at me, the sadness multiplied more than I had ever seen it in the 6 months I had been with him. He gently removed my hand, sat up, and placed our intertwined fingers in his duvet-covered lap. He blew air out of his cheeks and I felt his fingers begin to quiver.  
"No, Jess. I'm really sick."  
The water that sat threatening to spill over his red-rimmed orbs of green told me everything I didn't want to know.  
"How long have you been-"  
His lips hardened and he struggled to speak. "Before I came here." He bit the inside of his cheek.  
I felt dizzy, like I might throw up. The room became almost unbearably hot and I felt my clothes begin to cling to me. I'll always remember the first time I saw Harry cry. I looked at him through my eyelashes as he half-laughed, half-exhaled with a crooked open mouth smile, hanging his head down. He looked like he was going to say something, but instead he sniffled and shook his head, resting on my shoulder. I let him silently cry for a while before we laid down and wrapped each other in our limbs, exchanging soft kisses and gentle caresses. 

I got to spend a few more months with Harry before he slipped out of my fingers. Before he faded away. I'll always remember the last moments we spent together before he got too sick to stay at home. We were sitting on the same beach we met on, alone this time, watching the sun set. Harry had his tight jeans rolled up to his knees as we sat on the shore, letting the foamy water wash over our outstretched feet. We sat in silence, both staring out at the lulling waves barely making it high enough to crash back into the ocean. I was somewhere in my head instead of there with him. I was somewhere where he didn't have to be sick and we could just lay in the sand forever if we wanted to, but the sound of his rich voice broke through my reverie.  
"Hey, Jess?"  
"Yeah, Harry?"  
"Do you think it'd be nice if you could just walk out into the water and not stop 'til you're in too deep and you just peacefully float away into nothingness?" 

I lazily rolled my head to the side as he did the same, our blank stares met and I swore my heart was going to leap from my chest at his words. They were the same words I had asked him the night we met. Truth was, I had tried to kill myself the night before the bonfire, something I had never told Harry and never planned on telling him. That's where that question stemmed from: my lack of enthusiasm about still being alive and the fact that no one noticed I was so close to gone, not even my mom. I wanted to disappear, to stop feeling, to be nothing. Little did I know the boy with the sad eyes would change all of that in such a short time.  
I sighed and smiled at the beautifully sick boy next to me, his skin once rich with color, now faded and ghostly, as I choked back a river of tears. "Yeah. Yeah, it'd be nice."  
He rolled his head back to look at the darkening sky and I watched him. Trying to etch all of his features into my mind before they were gone.

4 days later and he was back in the hospital. They said he'd be there for good. I stole every moment with him I was allowed during visiting hours when his family wasn't there. It was rare because his mum and sister didn't want to leave his side. I slept next to him one night in an uncomfortable plastic chair, my head rested on his chest while the sounds of his heartbeat lulled me to sleep. I woke to a weak hand running fingers through my messy hair. Rubbing my tired eyes I looked up at him, discovering a smile on his face, weak and small but big enough to implant a dimple upon his cheek. I opened my mouth to greet him but I was distracted by the unfamiliar crinkles by his eyes. Finally Harry had genuinely smiled with no darkness clouding over his emotion and I had all I could do not to fall apart at the seams.  
"I don't want you to go," I selfishly sobbed as he ran his thumb over my cheek to catch my tears.

I wasn't there when he passed away the next night and I still hate myself for it to this day. Our last goodbye was a kiss. It was like our relationship, short and sweet. As soon as Harry had crashed into my life like a tidal wave, he was taken from me by the tide. He walked into the water and he didn't stop and there was nothing I could do about it. I'll always remember the night he told me not to float away into nothingness alone. It made me angry because I wasn't the one who had floated away. He was. And he did it without me. 

But I'll always remember him.  
I'll always love him.  
And he'll always be my ocean.


End file.
